Nice Broomstick, Potter
by Ferosh
Summary: After a Quidditch match Harry finds himself alone in the changing rooms, polishing his broomstick. He is found by an unexpected visitor. DracoHarry


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. **

**_Nice Broomstick, Potter_**

Harry sat cross legged on the floor of the Gryffindor changing rooms, polishing the wood of his broomstick. The room was empty, the rest of the Gryffindor's had gone to celebrate in the common room. As Harry was alone he'd discarded the red Quidditch robes that stuck to his back. He was still panting and sweating from the high-speed game the team had just played against their archrivals Slytherin. It had been a riveting match, leaving the spectators sitting on the edge of their seats, binoculars pressed against their eye sockets. Wood's pep talk had been the usual, a long monotone drone about the importance of winning. But at the end he had pulled Harry aside and whispered to him: 'Knock him off his broom, if you have to Harry.' This comment to Harry hit home, reminding him of the importance of this match. Though it was only a first round game and nothing would happen if they lost. But since they were playing against Slytherin and they _had _to win. Gryffindor had won of course, and most of the crowd had left with a satisfied smile on their faces, whilst a quarter left with sickly glares and rude jeers.

As he rubbed the slick oil down his broomstick he relished in the moment when he'd caught the Snitch. The sun had been blaring into his eyes, and the wind dancing around him as he hovered in the air when he'd seen it. He'd seen a flicker of gold just by Fred Weasley's ear, only for a second and then his green eyes had followed it as it whisked away around the Slytherin goal posts. Draco Malfoy had seen it a split second after him, and a shot forwards following Harry. The fair haired boy had caught up to Harry as he'd hurtled around the goal posts narrowly avoiding the Bludger pelted at him by the Slytherin beater.

Harry had felt Draco pressing up beside him as they battled it out to reach the small golden ball first. He'd been gruffly irritated as the wind had pushed the slender boy's blond locks into his eyes. Harry hadn't realized Draco's hair was that long. The Slytherin had begun swinging sideways and thudding back into his Gryffindor counterpart as they snuck closer to the Snitch. When the Snitch was just an arms length away, Harry swung out sharply and slammed back with all his might into the green clad boy knocking him from his broom and to the ground below, which was only a foot or so below them.

When his fingers clamped around the Golden Snitch he heard the crowd erupt into a loud roar. Beaming from ear to ear he thrust the hand in which the Snitch was enclosed up in a gesture of triumph. The crowd had spilled out into the field, many shouting words of congratulations and cheers. The Gryffindor's, Hufflepuff's and most of the Ravenclaw's had crowded around the team, thumping them on the back or hugging them briefly. But the Slytherin supporters were sulking in a corner of the pitch, where they helped an enraged Malfoy to his feet.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, it was still damp from the shower he'd had only moments ago. Once he'd dried it off some more, he returned to his broomstick, but he heard a slow tapping of feet stepping towards him. He looked up and gaped.

Draco Malfoy was standing in Gryffindor standing room, wearing his Quidditch robes just without a shirt on. His broomstick was tightly clamped in one hand and Harry noticed that a trickle of water was dripping down his arm. The blonde boy's hair was plastered to his forehead as Harry's had been moments ago. Harry couldn't help but notice there were droplets of water on his pale chest.

'What do you want Malfoy?' he spat, expecting harsh words on the cheating ways of Gryffindor's. His breathe hitched in his throat as the Slytherin stepped closer; he vaguely wondered how long he'd liked Malfoy. He could feel that familiar swooping feeling in his stomach and his heartbeat had rapidly increased. Worst enemies or not, Harry couldn't deny that the boy was attractive.

But instead Malfoy dropped his broom with hit the stone floor with a loud clatter, looked the sitting boy up and down and then smirked. 'Nice broomstick, Potter. Wanna fuck?'

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